The Meaning of Life
by Eguan
Summary: Life. Something so simple, yet so complex. Read what happens when the one most devoid of it starts to live again.
1. Prologue

**The Meaning of Life**

 **Prologue**

Life – Text

"Hello" – Speech

'Interesting' – Thoughts

Life. Something so simple, yet so complex. Who created it first? Who – or what – was the first Existence? The Titans?

No. Before them were the Old Gods. And these _Abominations_ were created by the Void Lords, beings of so unimaginable Powers that the simple Mind of a Mortal couldn't even begin to understand their Existence. But who was she to think about Life. _She_ , the one who was the least suffused of it.

"Milady?" a Voice came from the Entry. "Come in Champion. What is it that you wish?"

The Champion. The Hero of the Horde – she didn't really liked him. How can someone so _powerful,_ so _renowned_... be so _submissive_? It was unheard of.

"Shouldn't...shouldn't we follow Greymane? I mean, he is one of the Leader from the Alliance and..." Greymane. How she _hated_ the Leader of the Worgen. "No. It is unnecessary and would only consume essential resources. Now leave me alone, I need time to think about our next Steps." The response came instantly: "Yes, Warchief"

And with that she was alone in the Dark. Again.

Life. Something so simple, yet so who was she to think about Life. _She_ , the one who was the least suffused of it. And now it was forever lost for her. Slowly a tone began to rise. With every passing second it began to rise in Volume and Intensity. The Banshee Queen screamed her _Hate_ , her _Rage_ and her _Sorrow out._ Every single being several Miles around her started to curl themself up out of Pain. Birds fell lifeless ouf of the Sky, the Fishes in the ponds and Lakes began to drift dead to the surfaces and some of the Vrykul that were too close fell over with glassy Eyes and their ears and Necks covered in Blood.

No one could say how long it lasted. No one could say how many beings were killed.

No one could say where the Undead High Elf went after that.

Life. Something so simple, yet so complex.

 **A/N: Yeah, first Story, first Chapter, a rather short one at that. I hope that someone will read it and like it, I will make the oncoming Chapters longer. I apologize though for any spelling and grammatical Erorrs, I'm german.**

 **Eguan, Master of Leguans**


	2. Chapter 1

**The Meaning of Life**

 **Chapter 1**

Life – Text

"Hello" – Speech

'Interesting' – Thoughts

Sylvanas Windrunner. The Dark Ranger. Lady of the Undead. Warchief of the Horde.

To be dead...was not easy. Everybody had his own Ways of managing – to not go mad. Hers was the conviction that it was not the end. That _somehow_ , _somewhere_ there was _something_ or _someone_...that could make her alive again, even if only for the tiniest of Moments.

And so she searched – her personal Libary in Undercity held many Informations about Legends of incredible lively or longliving Persons of the Past – even about resurrections. But the most of them were just that – Legends.

But there were still a few that she never researched, a Well of Life hidden by The Lifebinder herself in the Dragonblight, an old artifact crafted by the Titans hidden somewhere on the ground of the seas and a 'Garden of Being', protected by old wards and Spells to hide it from the searching eyes of Mortals. Everything hidden.

From these three, the most promising was probably this 'Garden of Being'.

And so, she started an deeper and earnest research about hidden Lands, old Stories and came out with... nothing. 'There must be something somewhere...or someone who can tell me about this.' Another search for a _rescue._ Because thats what she thinks it is – a rescue from this undead existence.

Death wasn't an option. Was and will never be. At least not while she was still undead. There were so many things she still wanted to feel: Blood pumping through her body, the heavy breathing after an intense workout, the warm touch of a hand – she wanted to feel _life itself_ again.

She had to admit, there were certain...perks that came with being undead. Nearly unlimited Stamina for one. Her Banshee abilities. Not being attacked by other Undeads – mostly. Diseases and Poisons meant absolutely nothing to her – she no circulating blood that could be infected..

But still – she would give everything she had away to be _truly_ alive again – even if just for a day. Well, not everything: Her Beauty for one, she could never give it up.

Looking into a Mirror the Dark Ranger studied what she saw: Long and pointy ears – twitching lightly under the intense stare. Light blue skin-as perfect as ever- stretching over high cheekbones. A graceful nose over full blue lips - a darker tone than the rest of her skin, almost violet. Lush blonde Hair – the one part that didn't change at all. Then she looked at her Eyes – red glowing pools that swirled with Emotions: Hate, Regret, Fury, Anxiety... anyone who would be able to read her could se how conflicted she truly was.

Screaming "This is not me!", she shattered the Mirror wit a mighty strike. The shards clattered with high-pitched sounds to the ground, cracking and splittering further. Silently, the Undead Queen loked at the fragments of the mirror lying on the ground. Laying a hand on her bosom where her heart once had beaten she felt only cold skin.

"Nathanos!" He nearly instantly entered the room through the large leaf doors that led in the personal library of the newly-anounced Warchief."Yes,my Lady?" "I'm leaving Undertown for a While." He didn't twitch an eyelash at her exclamation – as loyal as ever. "Where to, My Lady? And how long?"

Sylvanas remained silent for a few moments. "I don't know, Nathanos." Glowing red eyes met dark red. "I leave everything in your hands. I trust that you won't disappoint me!" Giving a slight bow he smiked "As you wish."

She huffed slightly and took her belongings – then paused as her gaze fell upon Deathscream. Should she take the magic bow with her? It certainly was a powerful weapon. Steeling herself she grasped the gift she once got from her father – all those years ago. Without looking back or stopping even once the Undead High Elf left the city – to find what she craved most.

Life. Something so simple, yet so complex.

 **A/N: Whoo,chapter 2! Man, that took a long time... so yeah, I will continue writing this - but I don't know how often i can update with life, finding a job and all. Wish me luck!**


	3. Chapter 2 - First Meeting

Long, green blades of grass swayed gently in the wind. The lush plains accepted and welcomed any travelers, be they with or without intelligence. It was a peaceful area that had seen the lives of many beings.

But the lone form of Sylvanas Windrunner, bow in her right and arrows on her back, was one that had never before set foot on this lonely island far out in the sea. With a distasteful glare, she looked at the ship that turned around on the open sea and sailed away.

Another hateful glare, then she turned and just listened. The animals here didn't know anything but their own kind, they knew no hunters or predators besides natural casualties.

So the undead ranger was able to walk through the glades without any troubles, deers, and rabbits at her side and watching her curiously. She almost felt alive again, reminded of the times she was wandering through a different forest, with different companions than her hate and wrath, different eyes.

A different soul. But a sudden sound made her perk up again. Her long, right ear twitched, trying to filter out the natural sounds of rustling leaves, moving animals and the low crashing of waves at the beach. Yes. She had definitely heard the sound of someone talking.

With a dark glimmer in her eyes, she set on to meet the person. The events on the ship had left her filled with rage and more hate than before, and now she needed someone to vent her anger on. How dare that bastard of a captain to think her body was for him to take! He could consider himself lucky she had merely skinned half of his face and not his entire body.

Still, it ended with her being set off on this lonely island. Not her original goal, but she would find a way away from here. She always did.

These thoughts accompanied the lowly crouching form of the beautiful undead elf, her blueish skin blending surprisingly well in with the surrounding forest. It was almost as if the shadows around her clung to her supple form like a tight cloak. Not a voice came from the banshee. The perfect hunter.

Soon, however, she stopped as she picked up the sound of a... male voice. It was deep and smooth, but not weary enough to be from someone old. The voice was underlined with mildly agitated breathing, but only a small amount of pain.

Who was here on this lonely island together with her? _**Prey?**_

* * *

"Guh... by the name of my parents and their parents, this fucker knows how to punch!" Lifting his head, the man patted down the front of his chest. The hard leather, dotted with scales from an animal, was cracked in the middle. No blood was visible on the outer shell. "Fucker... why did you go and do that..."

With a weary sigh, he ran a hand through his mop of blonde hair, then slowly stood up. A small wince of pain ran through his body before the young man deeply inhaled and pushed his chest out. With a small * _crack*_ the armor popped back into position, though the damage was still visible. Now, it appeared less like a cracked-open hole and more like a real cut down the middle.

"Any stronger and I could have been dead..." he went silent after that, looking at the empty air a few feet in front of him. "I hope everyone..." Another sigh, a shake of his head and then he patted his sides down, checking in his head his equipment.

Sword? A long, worn-down but still sharp sword at his left side, carrying many signs of battles hung from his left in a loose sheath. Part of it was burned away and black at the edges.

Knife? At his lower back, a hunting knife was sheathed away. It wasn't overly long to be a hindrance like this, but also not that short that it couldn't be a dangerous weapon in close combat anyway.

Shield? Round, and made from wood, below his green cloak rested a shield. It was made in a style, not unlike the ones the Orcs used.

Another sigh, this time pleased at the fact that all of his equipment was there and nothing was missing. He was ready to go. And with a determined expression on his face, the young man, blue eyes steeled, turned around and marched onwards – only to be jumped the hidden Sylvanas. 

* * *

Authors Note: Yes, I still live. Yes, I do apologize for leaving this story so long to rest. I just didn't find any motivation. But now, I will try to give you a few updates along the line, maybe even try to make it regular - but I can't promise anything. Real life comes first, this is just a hobby.


End file.
